by Debby Mayne
“I will.” She tilted her head. “As soon as I have the money. Now answer my question.”
“Okay.” He shrugged his good shoulder. “It’s no secret. My supervisor ordered it.”
“Why?”
His cheeks puffed with a sigh. “I was wounded on the job. My partner was killed.” He paused and a muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes shimmered, and he sniffed. His voice lowered to a husky growl. “I was told to take some time off. I’d never been on a cruise. Always wanted to see Hawaii. So here I am.” A dimple winked next to his mouth. “I found myself bored before the ship left Honolulu.”
“How can you be bored on a cruise?”
“I’m not much of a party person, and you won’t find me taking a pottery class or water aerobics.”
She nodded. Her ex had been the opposite. Partying until all hours of the night, calling her to pick him up because he’d drank too much.
“So landing in the middle of a murder investigation spiced things up.” Molly crossed her arms and stared back at the passing greenery. “Glad I could oblige.”
“The view isn’t bad either.”
“It is gorgeous.”
“No argument there.”
The deepening of his voice dragged her attention back to him. The heated look he slid her way made her cheeks flame. He wasn’t talking about the incredible sights around them. Suddenly self-conscious, she uncrossed her arms and clasped her hands in her lap.
He wiggled his eyebrows.
She laughed. “Stop doing that.”
“Why?”
“It makes you look like a little boy. A bad little boy.” And that was the last thing she needed. Or wanted. The man’s charm could suck her in faster than a giant whirlpool. A relationship was not on the agenda. She spotted their first destination. “Oh, look!”
A red and white lighthouse rose stark and simple on an emerald peninsula. An azure sea and clear sky provided a striking background. She flipped through the brochure. “The fifty-two foot Kilauea Lighthouse was erected in 1913. Its beam once reached ninety miles out to sea.” She took a deep breath. “Wouldn’t that have been romantic? A woman standing in that spot at the end, waiting for the ship her lover worked on to return.”
“Yep.”
She rolled her eyes. A one word answer for something so glorious. Men.
Lance stopped the car and she shoved her door open, and bounded out, camera still slung around her neck. The sun’s rays kissed her face. Using the lighthouse as the focal point, Molly snapped a photo, then turned to the tourists milling about. She recognized some of the faces and spent a few minutes doing her job.
“Can’t you let me at least pretend to be a gentleman?” The close proximity of Lance sent her in a frenzy of alert nerve endings and hyperactive senses. How could one man cause such chaos?
Swallowing, she inched over a step. The ocean wind blew away the scent of his cologne. “Sorry. What would you like to do?”
He focused the full power of his coffee-colored eyes on her. “I’m talking about opening car doors for you. Maybe carrying your camera or the equipment? It looks heavy.”
“Sorry to offend your sensibilities. I’m used to doing for myself.” She stared at the lighthouse to avoid his gaze. “The camera isn’t as heavy as it looks. Come on, let’s get a closer look.”
Molly headed for the tourist entrance, paused, and faced Lance. She flashed a sly smile at him. “If you’re feeling chivalrous, you could pay my parking tickets.”
*
Lance couldn’t deny it. Her enthusiasm was contagious. He grinned as she grabbed his hand and tugged him closer to the lighthouse.
“Let’s climb to the top.”
He glanced up, not relishing the strenuous activity. At least he hadn’t been shot in the leg. Or dead like Abigail. Suddenly his troubles seemed miniscule in comparison.
His gaze traveled upward, imagining her looking down from heaven as his personal guardian angel. He sighed and let his gaze rest again on the lighthouse. It rose as tall as Jack’s beanstalk. He swallowed against the lump rising in his throat.
By the time they reached the top, they both breathed heavily. Molly took pictures around the metal grate protecting the lamp. Lance glanced over the edge, his breath seized, and he stepped back. Did the woman have no fear? What if the grate broke? She would plummet to her death and he could do nothing to prevent it.
He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Can we go back down?” Why did he sound like a boy going through puberty? He cleared his throat.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“No.” Yes. In the worst way.
She turned and studied his face. “You are! Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve climbed up alone.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“I guess gazing off the point out there is out of the question. It’s a sheer drop to the ocean. You can hear the surf from here. Lots of big rocks jutting—”
“That’s enough.” Perspiration broke out on his upper lip. He grasped her elbow and pulled her toward the stairs. “We passed an outdoor flea market about a half mile back. Let me buy you lunch.” That should be safe enough. Away from towering cliffs and buildings that touched the sky.
He hefted her equipment bag and motioned for her to lead the way to the car. The breeze carried a whiff of her perfume. Something light, floral, and completely feminine.
She stood primly beside the car door, her lips curled in a Mona Lisa smile, while she waited for him to be chivalrous and open the door. He chuckled and placed the bag in the back seat before reaching for the handle.
The wind across his face as they drove erased the tension of the lighthouse. He pulled up to the market and rolled his head on his neck. Molly still grinned at him. The minx. Obviously it made her feel good to know he had a weakness. “You are an evil woman.”
“And you said you’d feed me. I’m hungry.”
“Ever had taro leaves wrapped around rice?”
“No, and I’m not trying poi. I don’t eat purple food. You said you’ve never been to Hawaii.”
“I haven’t. My partner brought me back some once. That and fresh pineapple. We’ll feast on both today.”
The smile she rewarded him was worth another bullet. They approached the first vendor, made their purchases, and bit in.
Molly’s eyes widened. “It’s sweet rice. Honey?”
He nodded. “Yes, dear.”
“Oh, you’re a comedian!” She took another bite. “When we’re finished here, I want to buy some souvenirs. I’ve always wanted a muumuu.”
“That’s something I wouldn’t have expected.” The dress would dwarf her small frame. He could better picture her in a grass skirt. His comfort level around her surprised him. When Abigail died, he’d sworn off women. Forever, he thought. It’d taken a couple of weeks to realize the love he’d felt for Abby was more like a brother to a sister. Still, her death cut him with razors.
“Tell me about your partner. What kind of a guy was he?”
Molly’s inquiry surfaced emotions he thought he’d moved past. He didn’t talk much about that day, or Abby’s death. One reason his boss ordered the vacation time. The department shrink refused to clear him for duty until he took some R&R. Lance drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. He could do this.
“Her. My partner’s name was Abigail. Abby.” He led the way to a wooden picnic table. “And she was wonderful. Smart, beautiful, and brave. My best friend.” The memory still made his heart ache. “She was killed by the man who shot me. We were called to a routine domestic violence. Nothing unusual in a town the size I work for. It turned out to be anything but. She should’ve been off duty, but I talked her into one more call.”
Silence hung over them like the humid tropic air. Molly glanced down at her food. “You loved her.”
He took a deep breath and released it in a way that puffed out his cheeks. “Of course. Like a sister. But we wouldn’t have worked as a couple. She was
too independent, and I’m too stubborn.”
“Love covers a multitude of sins.” She shrugged. “Or so they say.”
“Spoken like a true jilted woman.”
She nodded. “Yes. I chose a handsome, self-centered, supposedly Christian man. To use your words, he was anything but.” A shadow passed over her eyes. Molly squared her shoulders. “Turned out my love for him was nothing more than infatuation, and his love for himself was larger than his love for God. I’m smarter now.”
“But he’s the reason you took a job on a cruise ship.” Lance wiped his hand on a napkin and readjusted his sling.
“Correct again.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re completely over him.”
“I am.” She gave him a tight lipped smile and turned to throw their garbage in the nearest trash receptacle.
A young man leaped from behind a tree and grabbed the strap to Molly’s camera bag. Her neck snapped to the side as her feet flew out from beneath her.
6
M olly’s neck jerked to the side like it would be disconnected from her shoulders. Before she knew it, she found herself flat on her back with a pounding headache and the breath knocked from her. She stared into a sapphire sky. Afternoon rain misted her face.
Lance bent over her, his face a mask of anxiety. He waved back the circle of strangers flocking around them. “Are you all right?”
“My camera.” She felt for it, reassured to find it still around her neck. “Why didn’t you go after him?” She pushed to a sitting position.
“That would’ve entailed leaving you here alone.” Lance tilted her face to his and peered into her eyes. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two.” She slapped his hand away.
Lance sighed. “He didn’t get anything. Don’t move. Your head hit a rock, and I think you blacked out for a minute. I need to get you to the ship’s doctor. An ambulance is on its way.”
“I’m fine. I’m not riding in an ambulance.” She waved him away and tried to stand. “You can take me back as well as anyone.” She blinked against the black fuzzy outline around his face. Her legs refused to cooperate, and she crumpled in a heap.
“Don’t be so stubborn.” Lance shrugged off his sling and swept her in his arms.
“Your shoulder.” Why couldn’t she hold her head up? She put a hand to the back of her neck. A lump the size of a golf ball had taken up residence. Her stomach churned like the ocean during a hurricane.
His chest rumbled beneath her ear as he said something she couldn’t decipher. “I’m fine,” she repeated. The world grew fuzzy, and she closed her eyes.
When she opened them, they were whipping around the roads of Kauai like a NASCAR driver. Her simple lunch threatened to escape. She didn’t relish the flight over the cliffs, and the speed did nothing for her head or the nausea. “If you don’t slow down, we’ll be going swimming.”
“Oh, good, you’re awake. You scared me.” He spared her a glance and focused back on his driving. “How’s your neck? You’ve got a welt where the camera strap rubbed it. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into driving you.”
Molly pressed her head against the headrest and tried not to move. By the way the words spewed from his mouth, Lance was concerned. But, a welt was the least of her worries. Losing her lunch topped the list. She closed her eyes against the tears threatening to spill. When had she turned into such a weeping Wendy? It seemed like she wanted to cry at least once an hour lately.
That boy could’ve stolen her camera bag. More than a home for the tools of her trade, she used it as a purse. It contained all of her identification. That could’ve resulted in her being fired. Well, maybe not. But she’d spent the last of her money on the Nikon, and didn’t want to use one issued by the ship. She knew this one’s quirks.
“Why did somebody want my camera? To sell?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I’ll see about getting the photos printed while the doctor examines you.”
Oh. She understood now. Somebody thought she had something incriminating on her camera. Her skin prickled. Clips of pictures she’d taken since dropping her card off with Antonio flickered through her mind. All the photos were of passengers and scenery, which meant … “I could have a picture of the killer again.”
Lance nodded. “I want to compare what you have now with the one you took yesterday. Maybe we’ll have a face for the authorities to run through the database.”
Then they could put an end to the nightmare. Please, God, let it be so.
*
When Lance saw the thug pull Molly to the ground, he thought his heart had stopped. History threatened to repeat itself. After the kid failed to get the bag, he’d disappeared in the mass of people at the flea market. It could have been much worse. Time to get his weapon out of his suitcase.
Despite the throbbing in his shoulder, he insisted on carrying Molly onboard and setting her on a sofa until someone retrieved a wheelchair. Her paleness left him weak in the knees, and his heart rate sporadic.
The ship’s doctor, Max Duncan, a man who matched Lance in height, arrived with a wheel chair. “This is a little different than the sea sickness or sprained ankles I usually get.” He knelt beside Molly. “Molly, I’m going to help you into the chair. Let me know if you feel like you’re going to pass out.”
“I’m fine.”
“She keeps saying that.” Lance rubbed a hand over her face. “And I think I pulled a stitch carrying her in here.”
“I’ll take a look at you next. Where can I contact you?”
He removed the camera bag from around Molly’s neck. “Photography.”
Max raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as he wheeled Molly into the elevator. Knowing that she’d be okay under the doctor’s care, Lance waved when she opened her eyes long enough to spear him with a look. He laughed, knowing she’d rather go with him than be poked and prodded by the doctor. “I’ll be right back,” he told her.
Once the doors closed, he turned toward the service part of the ship. With most of the passengers on shore, the halls were empty. Inside the lab, a young man he hadn’t met lounged in a chair reading an automotive magazine with his feet propped on the developing machine. “How long until you can get these developed?”
The boy’s feet clunked to the floor. “An hour tops. You’re the cop that’s helping security find Antonio’s killer, right?”
Lance rolled his shoulders. He would’ve liked to have kept his identity a secret from most of the passengers and crew. “Word gets around.”
“Especially among the crew on a ship. We have few secrets. It can be good or bad.” The young man’s teeth flashed brilliant against his ebony skin. “I’m Mahamud. These photos will be my top priority.”
“I’ll be in the clinic.” Lance marched from the room. Having most, if not all, the crew knowing who he was would not help him uncover information undetected. His steps quickened. He wanted to be with Molly when the photos were developed. They’d study them together. If she felt up to it.
He pushed open the door to the clinic as Max taped a bandage to the back of Molly’s head. He glanced up. “She has a concussion. Not a bad one, but I’d advise rest for the next day or two.”
She pushed his hand away. “I have a job to do.”
“I’ll inform the captain and the purser of my assessment. They’ll agree with me.” Max restored his supplies in a cabinet and locked it. “You, little lady, seem to have attracted the attention of an unwanted admirer, for lack of a better word. Take my advice and enjoy the rest of the cruise with the detective here. Your injuries weren’t your fault.”
There wasn’t anything Lance would enjoy more than spending time with the feisty Molly. He didn’t know for sure why the information pleased him so much, but spending the next week with Molly brightened his day. “Can she walk?”
“Sure. I’ve given her something for the nausea and pain.” He waved at the other examining table
. “Now, let me look at your shoulder.”
Max helped Lance out of his shirt, then removed his dressing. “Just pulled a little. No harm done. You can probably do without the sling at least half the day. Start regaining use of that arm.”
“Thanks.”
When the doctor’s work was completed, Lance helped Molly to her feet. “Let’s sit on the deck for a while.”
“Did you turn in the photos?”
“Should be done within the next thirty minutes.”
Keeping the pace slow, he led her to the upper deck. With Molly settled onto a white lounge chair, he took the one next to her. The ocean breeze blew blond strands into her eyes and Lance stretched over to tuck it behind her ear. Like silk. Her color had returned, replacing her previous look of marble to one of a pink rose. He settled back and crossed his arms.
God, I’d like to know what you’re doing. The plans for an onboard, harmless flirtation weren’t panning out as he’d planned. Instead, the woman next to him jumbled his emotions. It wasn’t just the fact she could be a target that made him want to spend all his time with her. It was her. The graceful way she moved. How easily laughter bubbled past her defenses. And the haunted look in her eyes that made him want to kiss it away.
His gaze slid from the beauty of the island rising beside the ship, to Molly. She’d fallen asleep. Long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Her lips parted slightly, inviting him to lean in for a kiss. He dragged in a deep breath and averted his eyes. He had it bad. All the stories he scorned of love at first sight, and the bug had taken a big bite out of him. What would they do when the ship reached Vancouver?
“Here you go.” Mahamud appeared at his side. “I rushed them through.”
Lance straightened and took the large manila envelope. “Thanks. Molly, the photos are here.” He pulled out the fistful of photos and handed them to her, then withdrew the rest. Molly was a talented photographer, catching the subject’s personality. His favorites were the candid shots. The passengers would be forking over a lot of their cash to purchase these. He perused photo after photo and found nothing incriminating.